Smoke and Shine
by Webdog177
Summary: The inside of the office is hot, and the fan spins with a clack-clack-clack. It's too damned hot for making any trouble. But, as always, when you don't want it is just when trouble comes knocking. Mind the 'M' rating. [Film-noire AU, Private eye!Ruby/Flapper!Weiss, Whiterose]


Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I've been on a whole 'film-noire' kick, and so this came from that. I wanted to hit somewhere in the ballpark of Dick Tracey, Frank Miller stories and old detective radio shows. It's not perfect, but I think its entertaining enough for what it is. And I just get a kick out of imagining Private Eye Ruby in a red trench coat and fedora and flapper girl Weiss.

Enjoy.

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 **Smoke and Shine**

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The inside of the office is hot, and the fan spins with a _clack-clack-clack_. It's too damn hot for a smoke, even with the window wedged up high and the shutters brought down low. The wallpaper is faded and greying, peeling in the corners like a half-wrapped box. The walls underneath are yellowed and old, either from smoke or water or both. Well, whatever; that just made the rate lower.

I sigh and push my hair back from my sweaty brow.

It's too damned hot for making any trouble. But, as always, when you don't want it is just when trouble comes knocking.

The stranger – customer? – walks in. He stops, like they always do when first seeing the state of the small one-room office-slash-studio apartment, and frowns. Now, I know I'm not no high-to-do, and that suits me just fine. In a shirt and trousers I pass well enough, but with a smooth face and soft cheekbones, I barely pass for an adult.

Then again, maybe most people expected a man instead of little ol' me sitting behind the desk. Most folk just don't expect to see a dame making a living snoopin' around. More of a fella's thing.

"Are you… Ruby Rose?"

I rise. "Eyyya," my tongue glides lazily over the vowels as I dip my head in greeting. "At your service."

He says his name is Jacques Wilhelm Schnee the Third. Well, now ain't that a name you can take to the bank? I survey him. Fifties, solid if a little thin, a fine cut to his suit. Comes from money, he does, and with plenty to eat every day. Another look catches ruptured veins on his nose. Too much to drink.

I sit again and lean back in my seat. "So what brings you here?"

The man is sweating, turning his white shirt gray at the collar and armpits. "I'm told you are good at finding people."

I incline my head. "So they say. Who you looking for?"

He pulls a beat-up photograph out of his pocket. "My daughter. She got in with a bad crowd. Gone two weeks ago today; ran off, she did. Took her things and disappeared."

I take the photograph. She's thin, like her father, a bit stern in the face with a small nose. Cute – like any good daddy's girl.

"How old is she?"

"Going on twenty and stubborn as they come." He takes a kerchief out of his pocket and dabs at his forehead. "Now I'm a good man, you see. I can't just sit by and let her go down that road."

I nod and draw my notepad close. "Alright, tell me about her."

It's the same story I've heard a hundred times and then some. Once, it was my own: a girl looking for excitement who sees the darker, seedier side of the city as an adventure and doesn't want to stay in the backside of nowhere forever.

The Schnee girl hasn't gone so far, really. She just likes to mix with the wrong sorts. And that's not proper enough for her pop.

I close my book. "I'll see what I can find out," I say.

"You'll bring her home then?"

I rise from my seat. "Can't promise you that, but if she can be found, I'll find her."

He gives me places his baby girl – Weiss – used to go to. He already looked there, he says, but I know it's damn easy to hide out in the places you know, especially if your old man sticks out like a crooked nail.

Those are the first places I go to when the evening sets in. I pull on my red hat and coat, and take the trolley uptown a spell.

Old man Schnee said as much, but I can read between the lines. He doesn't like Faunus and he don't want his girl around the likes of them. The way I figure it, Weiss Schnee can spend her time with whomever she damned well pleases.

I light up a cigarette and walk the streets. Jacques didn't know what to look for, but I know the signs, places where speakeasies are tucked away, hiding behind storefronts and apartment blocks.

Three bars are a bust. One of them, I show around Weiss' picture. They know her, sure, but she don't come 'round there no more. She moved onto bigger things, they say. One of the fellas, leering, says she's taken to watching Miss Belladonna's show.

Now, I don't go to this side of town too much, but even I've heard of Miss Belladonna: the tall cat Faunus with a sultry voice and golden eyes, working out of the Cat's Meow on 14th and Burr. Some people don't know if she's well-to-do or the regular sort, and I got a hell of a lot of respect for a dame like that.

It puts a new spin on Weiss Schnee, if she's living it up with Miss Belladonna.

So I head that way. It's tucked right away, but if you know where to look, it isn't hard to find. The Cat's Meow has a name, and sure enough, can't miss the crowd that knows what it's looking for.

It doesn't take much to get in. The tough-looking dame at the door looks me over and nods, like I'm one of them. Maybe I am, in my own way. Sure, I don't dress up to strut onstage or anything, but I sure as hell am acting up a story. I'm not a fella or anything like that, never wanted to be one, but damned if it isn't a helluva lot easier living in pants than a skirt.

The speakeasy is already filling up. I take it all in; fellas arm-in-arm with fellas, dames cozying up to other dames. My cigarette's burning down low and I realize I'm staring. Ain't like I haven't considered my likings or anything; just always kept them buttoned right down. Don't need the distraction.

I see a pale head turn, and see the face from the photograph. Little Weiss Schnee doesn't look half so innocent as her old man said. She's sitting on a table, a glass of shine in one hand, cigarette in the other. Her hair is shorter, though just a silvery as in the faded picture, and she's painted up her face, and damn it if she don't shine up like a new penny.

I'm still staring when Weiss notices me. She's not the little mouse of a girl anymore. She's all lit up, smiling. It almost makes you not even notice the scar across her eye – down the side of her face. That wasn't in the picture her pop gave me, true enough. I know I'm in a world of trouble as Weiss slips down off the table and struts towards me, skirts and hips swaying.

"Haven't seen you around here before," she says, eyes shining. "Like what you see?"

I stare at her, like a fox on the railroad track. I don't need the distraction, and I've as good as done my job. "I'm Ruby Rose," All the words fall out of my mouth before I can dam them up. "Your pop sent me looking for you."

And just like that, the smile winks out.

"I think you better get going…" her eyes slide down my shirt and trousers, and back up to my face. "… _Miss_ Rose. Peepers aren't welcome here."

I touch the brim of my hat. "Miss." I turn to go, then pause. "I ain't gonna tell him where you are, Miss Weiss. He just wants to know you're safe."

"Sure," Weiss sneers. "Get the hell out of here."

I leave, but not without looking back. Weiss is standing, face like thunder. She's found her place and doesn't want to leave. I can't fault her for that. Sometimes, people never find their place. If you find it, you got to keep it or you'll lose it.

I give it a couple of days. Makes it look like I had to go a ways to find the girl. Don't want to make it easy if he goes looking again.

Mr. Schnee isn't pleased with me when I tell him Weiss is staying put. He wants to fetch her home and knock some sense into her. I'm not surprised. He looks the kind to speak with his fists. So I tell him to go screw himself. He takes a couple swings at me and I end up with a busted lip and a shiner for my trouble before I knock Jacques on his ass and out my door.

I have to thank my sister to teaching me how to take a punch. And to give one, too.

He doesn't pay me and cusses me out. Calls me all manner of unsavory things. He'd be worse, I suppose, if he was talking to a fella, especially a fella with some smoke in her.

"This isn't over!" he snarls. "I'm going to find my girl, with our without your help."

I figure Weiss should know about her pop.

Okay, sure, I want to see those pretty blue eyes again, but Weiss should really know. I take the trolley uptown again. Weiss must have friends, because I can feel people staring at me. I ignore it and head right on it.

Weiss finds me this time. "What do you want?" she demands, grabbing me by the shoulder. I turn and Weiss' eyes go wide. "Geez louise. You get into a fight?"

I wonder how bad it looks. I didn't stop to check before I left the office. "Your old man stopped by," I say. "He's still looking for you."

Weiss' fingers are against my cheek and she swears like a sailor, one hand rising to finger her scar. The picture was getting clearer all the time. "He did this to you?" I hesitate and then nod, and Weiss looks mad enough to chew glass. She takes my hand and pulls me toward a table. "You should have put ice on it."

I snort. "You think I got ice in my office?"

Weiss' red lips pull tight against her face. "Stay here." She's back in a few seconds with a glass of ice. She tips some into a napkin and then presses it to my eye.

I lift her hand up to hold it. "Thanks." I watch Weiss. The girl isn't meeting my eyes. She's looking at the bruises, frowning. She knows to put the ice on it and that gives me a mess of ideas about why she doesn't want to go home anymore. "You should really stay here."

"What?" Weiss looks confused.

"Don't go back," I say. "You got friends here. It's safer."

Weiss picks up another piece of ice and gently presses it to my busted lip. "I'm not going back there. Not ever."

"Good."

One of the fellas brings us drinks. Weiss doesn't even look at him. She's looking right at me, like it's the first time she's ever seen me. "He was paying you to find me. How come you didn't tell him I was here?"

I've got a thousand reasons. In the end, I shrug. "Girls like us gotta stick together."

Weiss' lips slowly stretch into a lazy smile and her eyes start shining. She sits back on the edge of the table, and picks up the glasses. "Girls like us, huh?" She holds out a glass. It's cold against my fingers. "So what's your story, Ruby?

I knock back the drink. It burns like the devil, but I keeps it down. "Like yours," I say. "Just with more pants."

Weiss laughs, throwing her head back. Her silvery hair flutters on her shoulders like a cloud, and her neck is pale as sugar. My hand shakes around the glass. I didn't come looking for no distractions, but I ain't never spoke to a dame like Weiss before.

"You staying for the show?" Weiss asks.

I say no. Cases, I say, and I cut and run like a scared jackrabbit. I'm three blocks away before I start regretting it. Still, I can't go back. Not tonight, leastways. Worse to come crawling back.

So I give it a day or two, until my face ain't so swelled up. I even get myself a fine new tie. Don't hurt to smarten up once in a while. I'm late for opening and when I slip in, Weiss is warming up the crowd.

She's got amazing pipes, and the spunk to boot. She's laughing and shaking her skirt with every kick – its real short and her gams are as white as her neck. My mouth is dry and I'm staring.

Weiss spots me over the whooping crowd. She smiles and blows a kiss, and I blush like a schoolgirl. I head to the bar and hide my face in a glass of shine. There's an empty table nearby and I'm still sitting there when Weiss skips off the stage.

I don't have a chance to get up when all of a sudden Weiss is by the table. She steals my glass and takes a mouthful, then sits right down on my lap, looking pleased as you like. I swear in surprise.

Weiss just grins at me, her lips as red as my tie and hat. "I knew you'd be back."

My heart beats like a drum. Weiss' face is too close to mine, and my breathing way too hard. I'm stronger than this, I know I am. I don't turn into a sap over a pair of pretty blue eyes. Not before, anyhow.

Still, I melt like butter in the sun when Weiss leans that little bit closer and kisses me square on the mouth. I haven't ever been kissed by anyone before, save for a boy when I was ten. I decked him then, but I don't have any plans to deck Weiss, not even when Weiss opens her mouth and licks at my lips.

I gasp aloud, and my mouth is open, and Weiss is already slipping her tongue deeper. I'm dizzy with it, and I'm pulling Weiss closer, feeling Weiss' fingers dive into my hair.

I have no idea where my hat went off to.

I pull back. My lips feel all puffy, and I'm breathing like I ran a whole city block. "Weiss…" The name sounds like a prayer.

Weiss is smiling. Her fingertips touch my lips. "Wanted to do that the other day, but you were all beat up then."

"Sure," I scoff, looking away.

"Sure," Weiss repeats, lifting my chin, making me look back at her. "You watched out for me. I like that in a fella, even more when he isn't really a fella. Especially then."

"I ain't no looker," I mutter. True enough, I never looked the best, not like my sister had, but Weiss don't seem to care. I look down again. Weiss is still in the skirt, and her legs are right there. Sweet Jesus, I want to touch them, but that isn't a road I can let myself go down.

Weiss leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes and shiver. "I'm patient, Ruby," she whispers. "You want me, you know where I am." She swings off my lap and stoops to get my fallen hat. I swallow down a groan at the view. Weiss giggles, then sets my hat back on my head. "Call it a standing offer."

I skip out on the show again and this time, I can't dent that I'm running. It isn't until I get back to my apartment that I see the lipstick smudged on my lips. I stare at my reflection, heart drumming in my chest. I can remember Weiss' gams so clear, it doesn't take much imagination to get me going, and maybe it makes me a sap, but I lie on my bed fingering myself and think of Weiss like I never thought of anyone before.

I want to go back.

The next day, when the sun is high and the fan is clattering away, I think of ice on my lips and fingers in my hair. I'll go back and I know it. I blow smoke at the ceiling and grin. Yeah. I'll go back and see if Weiss is on the up and up. Hell, maybe just to mack on her again.

The door rattles and I sit up sharp.

"Miss Rose." Its old man Schnee, and he isn't alone. He got two bulls in uniform right behind him. "We need to have words."

I sit up straighter. It isn't right that he's brought the law into it. Of all the people in the room, he's the one who would be wearing the bracelets, especially now that I know what he did to his baby girl.

"What's this about, Mister Schnee?"

"You know damned well," he snaps. "You know where my daughter is."

I rise, and see the way the cops look at me. I got my height from my ma, but my big hands from my daddy, and no one would ever guess if I knew how to use them. It makes me feel tougher, and I lean on the desk. "Like I told you, Mister Schnee, your daughter don't want to see you."

"Miss Rose, the man has the right to see his daughter."

"And his daughter don't got the right to stay away from a man that beats on her and cuts her face?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. Jacques goes from red to white. "Mister Schnee ain't no gentleman. He beat on me, not three days back. I got no reason to tell him where his daughter is."

"I never…"

I know I'm not gonna keep my temper, if he stays around much longer. "Mister Schnee. I done a job for you, and you ain't paid me. You beat on me. Now, I want you to get the hell out of my office with these fine gentlemen, else I'm going to come down to the station myself and have charges laid down on you."

He goes pale as milk. I know he doesn't have cause to charge me, but I sure as hell could see him buttoned up in the big house, even for just a night or two. He's too much of a chicken-liver to try his luck with me, though.

He storms out and the cops go too. My hands are shaking, I reach down into my drawer. I've got a bottle of bourbon there, half-empty. Or half-full, likewise. It's how I celebrate the end of a case, and that sure as hell was an end if there ever was one.

Half a glass drunk and I'm still shaking. I haven't been caught yet, but with the law there, all it would take was an arrest and being checked down at the jail, and then ol' Ruby Rose would be as good as dead. No matter how long I do it, all it'd take would be one slip-up.

Someone taps at the door.

"Yeah?"

The door opens a crack, and my heart does a jump. It's Weiss.

I'm on her feet in a second. "You shouldn't be comin' 'round here. Your old man—"

"I know," Weiss says. She closes the door behind her. There's a deadbolt, and she slides it closed. "He was in my part or town, asking questions again. Said he was going to see the no-good quim got what was coming to her."

I stare at her. "You come to warn me."

Weiss nods. "You don't need to get in trouble because of me."

I start laughing. Maybe it's the relief, or maybe it's the bourbon. "Too late," I say, and when Weiss looks lost, I grin. "He brought in the cops. Thought it'd scare me, I guess. I turned them on him and he ran.

Weiss' eyes look bigger than the sun. "He's gone?"

"Pretty sure for good this time," I say. "Leastways, he ain't coming after me. And if you want, we can shake him off your tail same way."

Weiss steps toward me. "You'd help me?"

I nod. "Eyya." I'm leaning down just as Weiss rises on her toes, and we meet somewhere in the middle. Weiss' arms go around my neck and I pull her closer. This time, I'm the one licking at Weiss' mouth, until Weiss tastes like my bourbon too.

I don't know what gives me the thought, but I hitch Weiss up under her ass and push her on the desk. Weiss giggles, leaning back.

"You got a lot of nerve, Ruby Rose," she says, spreading her knees. Well, I'm not one to ignore a welcome like that and step right between them. My hands bunch in Weiss' skirts, pushing them up, until stockings give way to warm, soft skin. Weiss' mouth is against mine again and she sucks soft on my bottom lip. "You want to touch me?"

I squeeze her thighs. I'm getting light-headed again, and Weiss' teeth catch my lip. God almighty, she's making me forget how to breathe.

"I ain't never…" I say, feeling like an ass. "This… I ain't…"

Weiss kisses the tip of my nose. "Want a suggestion?" I nod, and Weiss' mouth is suddenly warm against my ear, hot breath sending shivers all through me. "Sit down, and bring your chair in close to me."

I all but fall into my seat. I can see where this is going. When Weiss kicks off her heels and her feet slide along the arms of the chair on either side of me, I swear to God and baby Jesus that my heart is going to beat right out of my chest.

"Jesus Christ…" I whisper as Weiss hikes her skirts up high. She doesn't have any bloomers on. As light as her hair is up top, down there, it's all pale curls. I've never seen anything like it before. Weiss is watching me, and biting her bottom lip. I look up, breathless. "You'll let me…"

Weiss' eyes shine. " _Please._ "

My hands are still on Weiss' thighs. They're warm and soft, and I know exactly what she wants to do. So I drag my chair closer, wedging my foot under the leg to keep it from skidding back, and presses my mouth to the top of Weiss' stocking. Weiss giggles and tilts her hips, and I have to catch her thighs with both hands to hold her still.

I can smell Weiss. Not the perfumed up-top Weiss, but the smell of her arousal. Lord in high-heaven, Weiss wants, and she wants bad. I shiver and press openmouthed kisses all along bare skin, closer until pale curls brush my cheeks.

I don't know if it's right, but I suck on the skin, right there, high up on Weiss' creamy thigh. Weiss makes a sharp sound, one hand in my hair. Not pushing me back, though; pulling me closer.

I suck again, hard enough to leave a mark, something to remind Weiss whose mouth was there. I lift her head back, and it's like a red rose on that pale skin. I drag my tongue across it and Weiss moans. It's not much of a sound, but it goes right through me.

"Ruby," Weiss' voice is breathless.

I smile. Weiss knows what's what when it comes to stuff like this, but she's not the one making anyone moan and pant like she is right now, is she? I turn my head, and Weiss' intimate parts are right there. Lord knows I know a thing or two about how to manage those. Last night I had practice enough; never done it form this side, though.

I slide one hand up Weiss' thigh, then down, dragging my thumb slowly up, brushing damp curls aside. Weiss shivers and I wonder just how much she'll allow. I lean closer, and then kiss Weiss right there, like I would kiss her on the mouth. Light at first, but when Weiss leans back on the desk and spreads her legs wider, I know light kisses aren't for down there.

I remember how Weiss licked my mouth, and I slowly drag my tongue against Weiss' warm folds. Weiss is squirming, and I can taste her. She's wet and warm, and I know what I'm looking for, searching up with my tongue, until I find the place that makes it feel a helluva lot better. And when I find it, when I press my tongue hard to it, Weiss' legs wrap over my shoulders and pull me closer.

I lick at her. Quick, then slow, hard, then soft, change it up, make her squirm. I slip my other hand down underneath Weiss' thigh, holding her still, but slowly slide my thumb up. I suck slow on Weiss' little knot, then slip my thumb right into Weiss, smooth as silk and Weiss' heels pound into my back.

"'Atta girl," I whisper, turning my head to kiss at Weiss' thigh. My mouth is getting tired, so I let my hands to the work for a while, my thumb sliding slick and slow and my fingertips flicking across the bud at the top.

Weiss is propped up on her elbows now. Her head is back and she's flushed a bright pink, her mouth open and wet. Small sounds are leaking out, gasps and whimpers.

"Weiss," I murmur, rubbing my cheek against Weiss' trembling thigh. I feel a little stretched, but damn if it doesn't feel great at the same time. I wait until Weiss looks me right in the eye, and I draw out my thumb and push in two fingers, and put my mouth back down.

Weiss stares at me, wide-eyed, panting, and I stroke with her fingers and my tongue, until Weiss' thighs are tight around my ears, and my whole world turns into warm, soft skin and the taste and smell of Weiss. Weiss' small cries turn breathless, and she falls back on the table, limp as a rag.

I draw my aching mouth back, and tilt my head to rest against Weiss' thigh. My chin is wet, and I lick at my lips. All I can taste is Weiss and bourbon.

Weiss strokes her fingers through my hair. "I'm keeping you, Ruby Rose," she murmurs. "You and that mouth of yours."

I blush against her hot skin. "For sure?"

Weiss pushes herself up on her elbows. "Yes, ma'am." She reaches down and grabs onto my tie, tugging me up. "Come here." She tastes herself on my tongue and starts working at the buttons of my shirt.

Above us, the fan spins with a _clack-clack-clack_.

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 **The End**

A/N: Thanks for reading.

Now that I'm done with it, I was thinking this might make for an interesting multi-chapter noire-detective story. If anybody has any experience with that kind of story and wants to brainstorm, hit me up!

And many thanks to Foldedhands for proofreading - thanks for always putting up with my nonsense!

 _***Will work for glomps***_


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